Someone led her to a corner out of the way, and somehow, during the confusion, Elizabeth managed to cut her finger. Some would say it was the confusion, and not expecting an American on the guest list, that caused Elizabeth to be left behind, locked in that great empty hall, alone. Yet, I think Frau Edihe knew, it was the magic of festival that shone in Elizabeth’s hair that night. For a time, Elizabeth wandered the hall, looking for the exit in the dim lights. She found side rooms, with lounges, and even a luxurious boudoir. None held the way out though, for Elizabeth had also lost her letter in the tumult. Her wanderings kept coming back to the chocolate man, to gaze at him, perhaps to dream, ja? Something drew Elizabeth to him, a something that caused her to throw caution to the snow, and step over the velvet rope to touch the statue. Thus emboldened, and feeling very wicked, in a delightfully delicious way, Elizabeth slipped up under his arms, so that he seemed to hold her, in. How hard do I have to pull it before I feel your submission? At what point does that moment of lust cross your face? When does that subtle pain become pleasure and take your mind away to carnal places? I dream of your body, of each and every curve. My fingers beg to trace the lines of that perfect flesh, to explore the angles and nuances of my Pet. I seek out the hidden places, the rises and the falls of a body that is, by a willing gift of your soul, mine to do with as I please. If I trace a line with one fingertip down your side, at what point does it finally reach your hip? How does my hand feel when gripped around that hip? What sounds fall from your lips when first I grasp it tight? Do your eyes fall closed against the wave of pleasure? Do you quiver? Do those hips press closer to meet me with the anticipation of what is to come? I wonder at the arc of your spine. I imagine my fingers traveling its length, from your neck to the small of your back, feeling out the bones that lie.
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